Category Archives: Princess Rosebud

A Painful Anniversary

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It’s hard to believe that it’s been nearly a year since I almost completely split open my leg in that stupid crazy accident.

Last year, we were drenched in neverending rain and this year we’re in the midst of a drought — it hasn’t rained a drop in months — and those LA fires are still burning out of control.

I’ll never forget the moment I slipped and fell on the steps and freakishly hatcheted my leg open all the way down to the bone. (It was SO gross.) Nor will I forget how I perfectly executed everything my RN mom had ever taught me as I carefully bandaged the gaping wound and drove myself to the emergency room in a heavy rainstorm; wracked with pain.

There’s still a slight numbness, an absence of feeling directly at the site, but my worst fears of an infection never happened, thank goodness. That would have been TERRIBLE. No MRSA, no staph, no bone nor blood infection; although the possibilities were there. Sometimes it hurts when I accidentally knock into furniture (actually, I just did that again), but healing was unremarkable.

I watched the whole sewing-up process; stuff like that doesn’t bother me, and I was especially interested in the internal suturing and VERY happy the doc was well trained in trauma. My wound was exceptionally deep (to the bone) and eight inches long — such a bizarre accident.

I’m surprised the internal sutures didn’t pop open because I didn’t pay very much attention to doctor’s instructions about not walking or putting weight on my leg or avoiding physical activities for a month.

Did I learn anything from that unfortunate experience? Did I stop running down the stairs in slippery socks? Actually, I DID, and I’ve continued to be slightly more careful because I definitely don’t want a repeat performance of that fateful day.

It’s an anniversary date that I won’t soon forget. I saved all the photos that I took when it happened and while I was in the ER. They’re constant reminders that life can change in the blink of an eye but those pics are too graphic and scary to share. (You’re welcome.)

I’m no stranger to accidents like the time I ran up the hill at sunset because I heard a coyote, and slipped and fell in the ditch. I broke a bone in my wrist — another completely avoidable incident. I think I finally learned the lesson. Well, maybe. Only time will tell.

Read the full stories here: https://enchantedseashells.com/2024/01/21/tales-of-the-er/
https://enchantedseashells.com/2013/07/09/slip-fall-break/

Bathroom Banter

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Recently, I was in a public restroom that had several stalls on either side of a long aisle.

It was crowded with lots of flushing and doors opening to welcome another visitor.

There was an obviously broken toilet on the right side with a large black plastic bag covering it, but women kept peering in before they realized it was not usable. If it were me, I’d have an “Out Of Order” sign on the door and taped it shut…oh well.

I was next up in the (not-very-long) line when a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, swooped in with a flourish of her long trendy coat, high heels, and designer handbag — way WAY overdressed for the setting of a public lavatory. I could smell the entitlement wafting off of her.

Impatiently, and with a pompously demeaning tone in her voice, she turned to me and asked, “Is there a line?”

First of all, I wondered why she chose to address ME…did I look like I was in charge of the line? I was just standing there, minding my own business.

(Let me back up a wee bit and explain my response–I was tired, recovering from a horrible upper respiratory infection– not Covid–and her “I’m definitely more important than anyone else” attitude simply rubbed me the wrong way.)

I repeated her question slowly, “Is there a line? — looked around and responded, “No, obviously I’m just standing here so I can meditate for a minute before I urinate.”

I then pointed to the stall door (the broken toilet) that was ajar and said, “There’s an opening. Go for it.”

And then I confess that I laughed to myself as she flounced in, only to immediately discover that the toilet was out of order and she had to back out on her precariously high heels. (Heehee)

Admittedly, this wasn’t indicative of my very best self, but it was so satisfying to put that haughty and pretentious little girl in her place, to maybe take her down a notch or two as she assumed her rightful place at the end of the line.

No cuts! Wait your turn!

And namaste…

P.S. Lest anyone think I am always this snarky- whenever there’s a child or someone pregnant, the unwritten bathroom code is to allow them to go first, but that was NOT the case here.

Stardust

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The Veil is Thinning 🎃

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🎃 Happy Halloween! 🎃

Samhain/Halloween is the time when the veil between the spirit world and the earthly realm is at its thinnest and is the best time to communicate with the dead. You can literally feel the change in energy in the air. If you feel a presence behind you, it’s not your imagination…

No ballerina princess costume for me this year; this time I’m a witch. I’ll take a ride on my broom, conjure up a spell or two…and do all the witchy things, of course! 🧹

Vintage art curated from Pinterest

A Wasted Day

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Seasonal allergies (rhinitis) are horrible this time of year and I can usually deal with it by taking Claritin, but yesterday the sneezing wouldn’t stop and I had to, albeit reluctantly, pop a Benadryl because nothing else worked.

I knew what that would mean… the day would be totally lost; completely wasted. I’m pretty sensitive to all meds, and for me, the affect of the antihistamine Diphenhydramine is similar to being so drunk and impaired that all I can do is sleep.

It didn’t take long before I began to feel numb and drowsy. I couldn’t keep my eyes open and slept the day away which I loathe doing; I hate to squander any second of a day, however, when my allergies get that bad, nothing else works.

When I finally woke up, my allergies were gone and so was my Saturday. There was nothing left to salvage.

It wasn’t nearly as devastating as that 1945 film, The Lost Weekend, about the desperate life of a chronic alcoholic as he’s followed through a four-day drinking bout, but I felt useless and unproductive, even guilty for doing absolutely nothing. It’s not an enjoyable feeling.

Angel Numbers (514) and Life Path Numbers (11)

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It’s so weird. I’ve been seeing this sequence of numbers (514) for a couple of years.

I see it all the time; on clocks, my phone, the oven, a timer, auto license plates — any and everywhere one might observe a series of numbers.

Since I was already aware of the significance of 11:11 and 1:11, I figured it might be symbolic to see recurring numbers — and especially 514, which is personally significant since it’s my birthdate.

I’ve always loved my birthday because every few years it falls on Mother’s Day, so I get a double celebration. A friend with psychic abilities told me that 514 could be a sign that my mom is around, offering love, support, and guidance. Whether it’s true or not (the jury’s still out on all that stuff), I appreciate the thought.

My life path number is 11 which means I’m supposed to be nurturing, highly sensitive, intuitive, a natural leader, an old soul, and a healer. That’s all good and fairly accurate, I guess.

What’s your life path number? Add up all the numbers in your birthdate including the year, and check it out. Is it accurate for you?

A Lifetime of Waiting

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“Patience is not sitting and waiting,
it is foreseeing.
It is looking at the thorn and seeing the rose,
looking at the night and seeing the day.” Rumi

I was thinking about how much time I’ve spent waiting for people and things in my lifetime.

Just now, the original Angel Boy (son) said, “Wait a minute, I told you I’d walk with you at noon.”

“OK”, I said, “I’ll wait.”

While I’m waiting for him, I decided to be productive and jot down my thoughts.

I’ve waited at music and gymnastics lessons, I’ve waited to pick up kids after school, I’ve waited for doctor’s appointments, I’ve waited for cars to be repaired, I’ve waited for loved ones to come home, I’ve spent countless hours waiting at the airport.

I guess you could say that waiting is a big part of being a mom. We wait for them to lift their heads, to crawl, to walk, to speak, to read, to grow. It’s all about waiting.

I can’t even do the math to figure out how many years I’ve spent waiting, in limbo, for anyone and everyone.

One would think that all that waiting indicates a high level of patience, but I’m not a patient person; I just surrender and radically accept the action of waiting because there’s nothing else to do.

Most of the time I bring a book and read to make the time go faster, and that helps me feel like I’m DOING SOMETHING.

I’m still waiting because Angel Boy’s idea of a “minute” is not the same as mine…I told him I was leaving without him and again, he told me to wait.

So I’m waiting.

What happens next in this scenario is that he’ll find me and say, “Hurry up! I thought you were ready. Let’s GO!” As if I haven’t been waiting for him all this time. LOL.

I literally just said, “I’ve been waiting my whole life to see the northern lights.”

And I hope I do. Hope springs eternal, and that’s exactly what waiting feels like; an eternity.

let her be

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Let her be
For her heart is filled with stardust
Her soul is as wild and free
As the wind

A Little Poem by Athey Thompson
Art by Roger Guinee

Life Goals

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Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

— Mary Oliver

world of love hearts

Autumnal Equinox in My Zen Den

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One of the Angel Kids came in, looked around the living room, and said, “Grandma, you turned this room into a zen den!”

I had never heard of that term before; apparently he heard about it from one of Mom’s friends.

A Zen room is a tranquil space designed for meditation, reflection, and relaxation. It draws inspiration from Zen Buddhism’s principles of simplicity, mindfulness, and harmony with nature. 

Recently, my love/obsession for indoor plants has spilled out all over the house to every available space, and the living room is no exception. I found an awesome boho rug and switched out some 90s burgundy drapes for a softer, more gentle mauve. I already had lots of pillows and crystals, rocks, and seashells, so it wasn’t such a drastic change.

If I hadn’t almost burned down the house a few times (truth), I’d add to the ambiance with a few dozen candles, but I don’t think it’s a great idea based on my track record.

It’s a sanctuary, a safe haven, a great place to play Scrabble, work on puzzles with the Angels, or listen to them play in the “mansion”, which is what we call their giant doll house that’s five feet tall and so big that we set it up in the living room.

“We like it down here, Grandma.” That’s all I needed to hear. My zen den is a success. It really does have a serene, peaceful vibe, and I’m happy they could feel it, too.

It’s a great place to quiet the mind and think about the autumnal equinox, free of TV or other distractions.

According to Isis Channelings, this equinox represents the balance of light and dark, and falls within a highly karmic dark night of the soul eclipse gateway. It’s like a bandage has been ripped out and all our wounds are exposed and demanding to be seen .

Dream time is intense right now and can bring much clarity and insights from our subconscious which could prove useful as we navigate these emotional tidal waves.

Enjoy twelve equal hours of light and dark, the first day of fall, and celebrate Mabon and honor Mother Earth by eating apples, decluttering, and don’t forget to write in a gratitude journal.